Motteditor's Reign of Winter PBP (Inactive)

Game Master motteditor

Round 2, Init 19

Tsin moves to the doorway, congested with ogre stench, and tries to clear the way for the others to pursue Marcian. "Marcian, really. We're only trying to make you see reason here. If you want to stand behind your wetnurses, I can't stop you."

Assuming only one ogre is slashable at a time...

MW Falchion: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (19) + 9 = 28 for 2d4 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (3, 2) + 6 + 1 = 12 damage

Confirm Critical?: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29 for 2d4 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (3, 2) + 6 + 1 = 12 damage

They have reach, so getting to either will provoke an AoO. Also, waiting on everyone else.

Malavarius hustles around to the front of the building, his robes billowing with his hurried steps. "Why do these fools always want to run? Is talking really such an imposition?" Rounding the corner of the building, he looks to see if Marcian's escaped or not as he ruffles through his scrolls. Provided the door remains shut and there's no sign of Marcian fleeing down the streets, Malavarius puffs his cheeks before drawing the magics from the scroll.

cast hold portal on the door

Hektir, going at the bottom of the round, was waiting for the baddies to go...and, if possible, a map. He wasn't exactly excited to earn multiple AoOs from the baddies, and would prefer to avoid at least one if he can. Can you describe the environs? Is it possible to avoid getting thunked or should Hektir just gird up and provoke so others can move freely.

Hektir has not yet done his Round 1 action.

Pems looks up at the ogres and groans, getting ready to see what happens with them...

OK, it's not the prettiest thing in the world, but here's a map

Oh, good! A map! In theory, Tsin and Quinn should have been able to move to engage something without an AoO since the ogres act after them. However, Hektir might be eating some club to the face.

I'll wait to see where Tsin and Quinn end up before moving Hektir.

They went mid-way through round 1, but readied their actions. Everyone's had a full action now.

They went mid-way through round 1, but readied their actions. Everyone's had a full action now.

Except for Hektir. :( Oh...and I think your ogres should be bigger. Unless they are stunted witchyogres...which would make sense in this snowy witch-laden hell.

Round 1, Init Last :(

Hektir, seeing the amount of witchery awaiting them, casts Produce Flame and tosses it at the ogre on the left.

1d20 + 5 - 4 ⇒ (17) + 5 - 4 = 18 touch to hit (cover, 1/4);
1d6 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10 fire damage.

Sorry, yes, you're right. This is Hektir and Mal's first round. And how big do you want the ogres to be? :)

it looks like Quinn can't shift near the ogres and would provoke attacks, so can I change Quinn's action to dropping his rapier, drawing his crossbow and shooting the fleeing man?

light crossbow: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26
dmg: 1d8 ⇒ 7

possible crit: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (2) + 7 = 9
dmg: 1d8 ⇒ 3

I'm making the area a bit bigger, FYI, because otherwise this is an awfully static fight.

Mal rushes around to the front of the shack, where he finds the door still closed and pulls his scroll. Move action and drawing the scroll take up his whole turn, so he'll have to cast next round.

Hektir casts his spell, summoning flame, and flings it at one of the ogres, who cries out in pain. Quinn drops his blade and draws his crossbow, firing at the fleeing Marcian, and hitting him in the back.

As Pems waits, Tsin moves into the doorway, blocking further attacks from behind and lashes out. Despite being hit with a brutal blow from one of the massive foes as she approached 18 hp, she puts him down in brutal fashion.

"Borger," the other one calls out in a growl and stepping to one side, lashes out with his hook again. He's followed immediately by Marcian, who ducks behind Tsin and drives his rapier through her back. The blow proves too much for the former butcher's apprentice, and bubbles of blood froth at her lips as she falls to the ground, barely breathing. 15 hp and 18 hp

Pems lets out a squeak and dives at Tsin, touching her and willing the healing to flow. Healing: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8

HP -3

The smell of blood fills her nostrils, while unconsciousness is kind to let her ignore her own head concussing the floor.

Round 2, Init 9

Hektir spits as he sees Tsin get knocked down, a trio of smacks.

Sheesh. She could have waited a moment...we got fire.

Hektir will move to I15/16 (not sure the walls are really 5' thick) and toss more fire at the ogre. He smiles as Pems dives to help.

"Nice work, Pems."

1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13 touch to hit; (I should have cover from the ogre from where it is)
1d6 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10 fire damage;

HP: 43/43; AC 20

They're not. I'm not good at online maps when I don't have maps I can copy...

Malavarius catches his breath, the scroll having proved more elusive than he'd initially reckoned. His eyes twinkle with satisfaction as the magics settle into the door. "Ha! Let's see that slippery little miscreant try and run away now! Ha ha!" Feeling triumphant, Malavarius hikes up his robes and begins to hustle back around to the rear of the building.

did Marcian heal last round?

Quinn shifts forward against the wall 16J and places a healing hand on Tsin's foot.

cure moderate wounds: 2d8 + 4 ⇒ (3, 8) + 4 = 15

Um, maybe?

Mal seals the door with his spell and then begins rushing back to the rear of the building, sure from the sounds inside that nothing too bad could be happening.

Quinn and Pems push forward, reaching out to touch and heal Tsin while avoiding putting themselves at harm. Hektir also rushes forward to fill the gap, but with more murderous thoughts on his mind as his ball of fire catches the remaining ogre.

The creature, yelling in pain, lashes out with his ogre hook, his aim thrown off by the wall. Marcian has more luck, though, drawing out Hektir's guard with a quick thrust feint before stabbing his blade home in the tracksmage's side. 16 hp

Round 3

Shaking off his sluggishness, Quinn leaps to action, eager to create opportunity for his friends. With a bravado borne of pure stupidity, the cleric tumbles through the doorway, a flashing, obvious target for both the ogre and the scalawag of a man.

acrobatics, untrained, moving half speed to G14: 1d20 ⇒ 7

Surely damaged, but a distraction to allow Tsin to gain her feet as he had intended, Quinn calls upon the power of Cayden to staunch the party's wounds, while excluding their enemies from his healing energy.

assuming he is still standing, channel heal: 2d6 ⇒ (4, 5) = 9

Round 3, Init 9

Hektir grunts as the man's dancing throws him off balance and his blade finds purchase in a hurty place.

Hektir keeps up his attack on the ogre, not believing the man could do that again.

No way I'm falling for that again.

1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23 touch to hit;
1d6 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6 fire damage.

Hektir will 5' step back, away from the Ogre and quickman.

HP 27/43. AC 20

Pems, seeing Hektir hit hard, decides to give the man some help with the ogre. He points the icicle dagger wand at the ogre and snarls the command word, sending a great icicle upward to stab the ogre! Reflex Save DC 14 dealing 2d6 ⇒ (5, 1) = 6 piercing and 2d6 ⇒ (2, 5) = 7 cold and trying to trip the great lump! CMB: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24

Round 3, Init 19

Tsin feels a stickiness on her cheek as she pulls herself up from the floor. She barely registers what seems to be a circus clown entertaining the crowd. Her hands flex, missing something. Candied cotton wisps? Why would I have dropped that? Oh, the sticky floor. Right. Her hands continue to grasp for something, when her hand comes up with an alchemist's fire.

A flick of time, and she understands her position and purpose, shaking her head to throw off the haze of unconsciousness. She tries to assess the overall health of both figures looming over her prone form, and she launches the bottle at the one more likely to fall from its use. If the ogre is still up... She tries to shield her face from any collateral splash.

Ranged Touch Attack on Whunk, from Prone: 1d20 + 5 - 4 ⇒ (10) + 5 - 4 = 11 for 1d6 ⇒ 2 damage

Mal continues his rush around the shack, re-entering the rear door just in time to see Hektir step back after hitting Whunk with another toss of flame.

Quinn tries to dash past them, but the plan proves ill-advised, and twin blows from the ogre and camp leader guarding the door render him quickly into unconsciousness. 31 hp

Pems, hoping he has a minute before helping the cleric, uses his wand on the ogre, who falls to the ground as the icy spear stabs up through the floor. Tsin adds insult to injury as a splash of liquid fire catches him.

A look of worry crosses the man's face as the ogre climbs back to his feet and takes up a guard position once more, and he stabs again at Tsin, hoping to make sure this time the woman really is down. She just realizes that he's again trying to draw her guard out, but it's not quickly enough to prevent a wound, though it could have been far worse.
3 hp

Malavarius' eyes go wide as he sees half his retainers laying on the floor in the next room. "What nonsense is this?!" Seeing an ogre looming over Tsin and Quinn both, the old wizard quickly intones a spell. "Gadzooks! You leave these young fools to their own devices for twelve seconds and look at the mess they make!"

Spontaneous Immolation (fire): 3d6 ⇒ (1, 5, 2) = 8 + catch on fire; Fort Save DC 19 for 1/2 damage + negates catching on fire

1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16

Whunk screams as he bursts into flame until he falls back to the ground, unconscious.

Round 4, Init 9

Hektir spits, the hocked loogie landing not far from the quickly expanding pool of Quinn's blood.

Ah Quinn. I hope you're dreaming of Nifty Natty Rumkiss. She had them nice eyes that you liked so much. She was great if you could ignore the 'stache.

Hektir moves to the corner (provoking from the Marcian) and waits for Tsin to regain her feet before striking out with his last fiery fist.

1d20 + 7 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 7 + 2 = 24 touch to hit; (flank)
1d6 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10 fire damage.

AC 20

Round 5, Init 20

Tsin hisses as she's frogstuck again. She grabs her falchion, and stands with it, ensuring Hektir's stride into flank. She feels something gummy at the side of her mouth, and finds herself inadvertently spitting it away.

Pems sighs again and touches Quinn, willing him to heal! Healing: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4

Where are you moving, Hektir?

Consciousness returning after Pems' healing, Quinn blinks his eyes for a moment to focus on the floorboards supporting his face, then groans a monotonous prayer to Cayden for strength. "owww oowww ooww"

selective channel heal: 2d6 ⇒ (4, 2) = 6

G14, the corner. Sorry.

Hektir spits again, annoyed that he might have forgotten something.

Whunk screams as he bursts into flame until he falls back to the ground, unconscious.

Hektir rushes past Marcian -- taking a wicked blow to his chest in the process 11 hp -- as Tsin climbs to her feet, more of her wounds closing thanks to the magic from the re-awakened Quinn.

Hektir's flame catches Marcian, who grunts in pain. Ducking, he makes a run for the door. But with that Acrobatics check, Hektir and Tsin can get attacks of opportunity.

As he hears footfalls scrambling for the door, Malavarius giggles quietly, like a mischeivious child who knows the candy his friend is about to eat tastes like pickled farts.

AoO

With no weapon in hand, save his shield, Hektir gives the fleeing man a bash.

1d20 + 7 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 7 + 2 = 25 to hit;
1d4 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8 damage.

AoO

Tsin watches the flames envelop the ogre with bloody satisfaction. When Hektir grunts in pain, she turns back to the back stabber. She allows Marcian to lean into the cut as Hektir shoves him past her.

MW Falchion: 1d20 + 9 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 9 + 2 = 23 for 2d4 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (2, 1) + 6 + 1 = 10 damage

Hektir's shove puts Marcian in the way of Tsin's blade, and the man goes down, no longer moving as the rapier falls from his hand.

Malavarius rounds the corner and sees the ogres and man laid out on the floor. "Well I don't suppose any of them will be telling us where to find this Ringier fellow now." He scratches his head as he looks around, his staff thumping on the wooden floor as he meanders about.

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17

Hektir spits as Marcian goes down.

That guy nearly killed me. The bastard.

Hektir grimly draws his sword and goes to coup de grace the ogres.

2d6 + 8 ⇒ (4, 6) + 8 = 18 Ogre #1
2d6 + 8 ⇒ (2, 1) + 8 = 11 Ogre #2

"Any reason to keep this one alive?" Hektir asks, pointing to Marcian.

Mal, while that is in fact true, Quinn earlier saw someone you assume is Ringeirr in the other room.

Indeed. Just flexing Malavarius' absent-mindedness a bit here is all =)

Ah, my mistake. Never mind and carry on. :)

Pems moves to heal Marcian, stopping him from dying. Heal: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5

He stops bleeding as his wounds close, but he remains unconscious.

Quinn drags himself to his feet and points to the last door, "Ringeirr, in there, let the other scalawag sleep until we get some answers.". Grateful for his life after blundering into the ogre and rogue, Quinn silently gives a heartfelt thanks to Cayden and feels a spark of energy in return, surely a sign of appreciation for his reckless chaos.

Hektir reaches down to help Quinn up, his scimitar still coated in ogre blood.

"That was brave and stupid, Quinn. We expect nothing less out of you."

Hektir will clean off his blade and look around the building.

Pems shudders. "I don't mind killing ogres and trolls and fey things, but people... People get me. This one won't die, but he won't be awake for a while. I don't think we want to be around when he does awake."

There's little in the room you're in other than blood and melting ice. The two ogres both wear hide armor, and each has an ogre hook as well as four javelins you find leaning on the walls.

Marcian has on him nice studded leather (+1), a beautiful rapier (+1), a dagger, a nice light crossbow masterwork with 10 bolts, a ring that radiates magic ring of protection +1, a cold-weather outfit, a key, a nice set of lock picks mwk thieves’ tools, a gold necklace worth 50 gp, and 17 gp.

In his room, under his bed, you find a small metal locker. It's locked.

A man, you assume it's Ringeirr Malenkov, is tied up, gagged, and somewhat battered and bruised in the small bedroom next to Marcian’s room. His eyes widen as he sees you enter.

Tsin wipes off her blade on Marcian's sleeve, sheathes it, then draws the spriggan's butcher's knife. She readies to take off several fingers from the man's swordhand, until she hears Pems speak on his wish for the man's fate. Fine... But be careful, suffering these rabid dogs to live. No good will come of it.

She turns to locker, tapping on it, when she sees the gagged man, tied up. Tsin looks down at her hand, knife at the ready, and strides over to the man. She proceeds to slit his... gag, then his bindings.

"Ringeirr, I presume? We're in need of your service. I believe you are in our debt at present."

"I am in your debt," he replies in a gravelly Common, "but also at a loss. I do not think I know you, yet you seem to know me."